


I like to...

by gunslingaaahhh



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunslingaaahhh/pseuds/gunslingaaahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mmk, so this is another <span><a href="http://mmom.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://mmom.livejournal.com/"><b>mmom</b></a></span> offering, as well as a little something for <span><a href="http://delicatale.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://delicatale.livejournal.com/"><b>delicatale</b></a></span>'s <a href="http://delicatale.livejournal.com/49614.html">Phonesexathon</a>, which you should all go and do because why the fuck not, right? I'd planned this as something different, but hey, whatever.<br/>Steve gets extreme potty mouth when he's drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I like to...

For all the times that Chin and Kono could bow out, they _had_ to pick the one time Steve decides to get _spectacularly_ shitfaced. If it hadn't been left to him to make sure the giant goof got home, Danny would've been able to truly sit back and _enjoy_ the train-wreck for once in his life.

Steve had decided to wear normal pants -- jeans -- and a loosely buttoned shirt out to the bar, as a means to distance himself from work for the night. Danny was dressed down, as well, or as dressed down as he was going to get, which meant no tie. When Steve got like this, it was best to remain as fully clothed as humanly possible.

The man was like sex on two legs, jeans fitting him perfectly, shirt damp with sweat and clinging to his skin. Danny kept his hands jammed in his pockets because it was safer than playing grab-ass with Steve; he wasn't the type to take advantage.

In the car on the ride back to Steve's though, it was a miracle he had the wherewithal to even _drive_ , considering what Steve was doing.

Which was singing along to quite literally the most lewd, obscene song Danny had ever heard. It was some satellite station Steve had found in the Camaro the week before, and now it was playing a song so foul Danny was sure his ears were going to burn right off his head.

"I like to fuck everyday, every night. I like to fuck when it's wrong, when it's right," Steve is chirping, words slurring and mushy in his mouth. He's dancing a little, too, and since car dancing tends to look more like wiggling, Danny can't decide whether he needs to laugh or throw up.

The chorus came up again, and Danny unleashed what could only be described as a squeal of indignation when he felt one of Steve's hotly groping hands come over to molest him in time to the music:

 _Baby don't take it personal, when I go  
and fuck these hoes. Let's talk about the word  
fuck for a second---I make love to you! Don't get  
it fucked up baby your my queen; even though I  
go and put my dick and everything. Baby it's just cause--_

"I like to fuck," Steve whispered then, almost in Danny's ear and that was it, that was the last straw. He floors it, the Camara kicking back for a second before roaring to life and speeding down the road to Steve's house. The car careens into the driveway, and Danny is out and around the front before Steve has a chance to realize what's going on. Danny pulls the door open so fast the car protests.

"Out, out-out-out, _out!_ " Danny practically yells, one hand grabbing Steve around the upper arm and hauling him out of the passenger seat. Steve starts laughing as he stumbles his way behind Danny up to the front of the house. Danny quickly unlocks the door, disarms the alarm, and throws Steve through the door.

"You don't deserve my help tonight, McGarrett, you don't. It's a miracle my skin didn't blister and fall _off_ listening to that, that _filth!_ I'm so wishing brain bleach existed, ok, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Aww, Danno, you didn't like my singing?"

"Didn't like your-- fuck you, ok, go to bed and try not to puke all over the place, alright? Good night."

Danny storms back to the Camaro, fuming. He gives the door a good slam before starting the engine and peeling out of the driveway, speeding back to his side of town.

~*~

It isn't until he's back in the relative quiet of his apartment that he has a chance to reflect. Ok, maybe he shouldn't have yelled at Steve, but c'mon, the guy has to know what he's doing, he _has_ to.

"No way he's that... that _oblivious!_ " Danny spits, pacing around and talking to himself. "Fucker does it on _purpose_ , I know he does; _fuck_ I hate him!"

That, of course, is probably the greatest lie ever told; Danny couldn't truly hate Steve even if he was threatened at gunpoint. No, he loves the big idiot, loves the stuffing out of him, more than he probably should or is healthy.

Tumbling onto the pull-out, Danny heaves a sigh and throws an arm over his eyes. The image of Steve looking at him and singing that fucking song is tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids and Danny groans; why is this his life, this ridiculous human being and his penchant for knowing the words to the most horrifying song ever written?

"Fucking... fuck it," Danny mutters before stripping off his t-shirt and pajama pants. His hands are on his dick instantly and he's almost shocked at how hard he is already, shuddering a little as his hands move of their own accord.

He begins mentally replaying Steve singing the song to him, how he was wiggling around in an attempt to car dance. Moaning a little, he can hear it like the other man is right there with him, whispering the words in his ear.

 _Yeah! Faces down, asses up, that's the way I like to fuck!  
No hands, drippin' wet; that's the way you like to suck! _

The thought of that, of either of them with their ass up in the air like that, it does something to him. Chewing his bottom lip, Danny yanks and twists and tugs, free hand rolling his balls in his palm. There isn't enough glide though, and it isn't like Danny has lube hanging around, he isn't that kind of girl.

Spitting won't do it, so Danny leaps from the pull-out and all but runs into the shower, turning the water on nice and hot and filling his palm with body wash. Sliding down the slick, cool tiles so he's sitting in the tub, he spreads his legs and resumes pumping. He's humming the song, now, the Steve in his head singing along at the tempo Danny sets with the up-and-down motion of his fist.

He speeds it up, putting a little twist on the end and going back to massaging his balls. It feels amazing, feels _relaxing_ thanks to the hot water, and he could probably just sit there and pull his pud for the rest of the night. Of course, that wasn't really going to _get_ him anywhere, and right now he really, _really_ needed to get somewhere.

Cursing like a sailor, he shuts off the water and scrambles back into the living room. He does a quick check of the time and decides that if Steve isn't passed out, he's probably still drunk and tooling around in the house. Danny does his best to ignore the pang of guilt that gives him -- he really should've stayed, at least until Steve was safely tucked away in bed, at least -- and dials Steve's number.

The other man answers after what feels like an eternity, garbled voice coming over the phone's speaker setting. Danny has taken his place back on the pull-out, hands full of genitals and fiddling with himself like a horny teenager.

"'Lo?" Steve says, and Danny can't tell if the man is still drunk or not; uh oh.

"Oh, uh, hi... you ok? Sorry to um... to dump you like that, I just--"

"Nah, s'ok Danno, m'fine. You ok? You sound out of it."

Danny pauses at that, staring down the plane of his chest and at the head of his cock, purple and oozing precome out onto his fist. He is breathing a little hard, just this side of panting even, and he takes a deep breath.

"Fine, fine, just wanted to make sure you didn't fall off the lanai or something."

"... ah."

"Ah what?"

"Nothin'."

"So... how exactly did you learn the words to that, um, that song?" and Danny's hands begin touching again, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles over the head of his cock, dwelling on the slit before circling again.

"Song? Which... oh! You mean the song about fucking."

"That would be the one," and he grimaces at how strained his voice is, hoping Steve is still too drunk to notice the tightness of his voice.

"Catherine played it for me forever ago... she thought it was funny and I kinda do, too, y'know? It's just so _dirty_ and who actually says that kinda stuff to a girl?"

Danny groans softly, hearing the words again in his head, and seeing how Steve's lips formed them, and wished Steve was there and his lips were doing something else.

"You didn't get to hear the whole thing, didja Danno?"

"Huh?! Uh, no, I don't think so," Danny says hurriedly, voice trembling. He's thrusting up into his fist, twisting on the upstroke and trying so hard not to just throw his head back and vocalize his pleasure. For one thing, Steve would know exactly what he was doing and for another, the little old lady next door would probably kill him.

He can almost hear the wicked grin on Steve's lips when the other man begins to whisper, tunelessly: " _I like to fuck, sexy boys; sexy girls. I like to fuck leather pants; jerry curls! I like to fuck; suck cock until I hurl! I like to fuck everybody in the world_ \--"

Danny bucks up once, twice, three times into his fist before coming, biting down so hard on his tongue he tastes blood. Gasping for breath, he takes the phone in hand and switches it off from speaker.

"Jesus Christ, Steve!" he half whispers, half gasps. "Do you kiss the governor with that mouth?!"

"It's just words to a song, Danny," Steve chuckles, voice still low and throaty. "And who said I kiss the governor?"

"What-- nothing, no one, it's just better than-- you know what? Never mind, never _mind._ "

"You ok, Danno? You sound awfully winded."

Danny freezes then, hearing something different in the tone of Steve's voice. Something that tells him Steve isn't quite so drunk still as he'd like Danny to believe, and that he is way more aware of what's going on than Danny would like.

He remains silent, mind racing with the thought that Steve has known what he was up to all along, is completely aware of what Danny was doing and what he himself was doing in the car earlier when Danny was driving him home.

"Steven..."

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Um... uh, you better drink a lot of water before you go to bed, don't want to be hungover tomorrow."

"... uh-huh."

Danny squeezes his eyes shut, _shit-shit-shit_ running running a loop in the back of his mind. He's screwed, he can practically _hear_ the smug Steve is probably feeling right now.

"I'm gonna go, tired, you know."

"Mmhm... oh and Danno?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Don't think about it too much."

The call ends and Danny throws his phone like its burning him, clutching at his sheets like a scandalized virgin. Groaning, he slumps down onto the lumpy mattress and scrubs at his face. Yeah, he's screwed, alright, the game is officially up.  



End file.
